Marthas Metamorphosis
by Lolly4Holly
Summary: Life in Smallville needs a little spice to stay interesting. An unlikely pair find some comfort in each other, adding a little spice to the bland farmers market. Takes place during Season 1 Episode 2 Metamorphosis. Martha Kent/Whitney Fordman. Smut. Affair. Sexual Content. One-Shot. COMPLETE


**Martha's Metamorphosis**

**Requested by jeremy crawford 27**

**Author: **Lolly4Holly

**Pairings: **Martha Kent & Whitney Fordman

**Warnings:** Adult content, sexual theme, smut…

**Summary:** Life in Smallville needs a little spice to stay interesting. An unlikely pair find some comfort in each other, adding a little spice to the bland farmers market. Takes place during Season 1 Episode 2 Metamorphosis.

**Author's Note:** Hi guys, this was requested by jeremy. Never really taken on a request like this before, but I decided to challenge myself and actually surprised myself doing it. I wrote this in about 5 hours after the request was submitted, so hopefully you guys enjoy it too. Ice packs and cold showers are highly recommended after reading :)

**Thanks so much for reading, please leave me a review. I hope I did it justice!**

**~ Holly**

* * *

"Clark!" Martha Kent called up the stairs again. She checked the time on her watch, noticing another scratch in the leather strap. Her husband bought it for her years ago. An anniversary or a birthday present, she couldn't quite remember which. She kept meaning to go and get it repaired before she actually lost it somewhere on the farm, but she had just been too busy these past few months. "Clark, we're leaving for the farmer's market in fifteen minutes and you haven't done your chores yet."

Jonathan Kent glanced up at the ceiling as it quaked, lowering the coffee mug from his hands. "Do you need me to go…"

"I'm sure he's fine." Martha had learned not to worry about every little noise that happened around the farm, especially since Clark's powers started to manifest. "Will you help me pack up the truck while he gets a shift on?"

"Sure." Jonathan took another quick sip of his coffee, scolding his tongue in the process. "Oh, ow." He hurried after his wife outside, seeing a blue blur whiz across the fields. He wished he could trade lives with his son for just a second. Chores around the farm would be so much easier with the strength and speed that Clark had.

"Clark was out past curfew last night." Martha snapped him out of his thoughts, handing him an overflowing crate of apples. "I know he's not exactly a normal teenager, but he still has to obey the rules that we set for him."

"I know. I'll talk to him." Jonathan assured her. He put on his best smile as Clark raced towards them, not even a drip of sweat on his forehead or a hair out of place. "Hey Clark, did you remember to let the chickens out this time?"

"I did. I'll fix that fence as soon as we get back. Here Mom," Clark lifted the second heavy crate from her hands. "Let me take that for you."

Martha shot a glare in Jonathan's direction, reminding him of what needed to be said.

The man gave her a slight nod, before he assisted his son to load the last of the vegetables into the back of the truck. He may have had super strength and super speed, but stacking crates so they wouldn't topple over didn't appear to be one of his abilities. "So Clark, did you stay out late after the homecoming dance last night?"

Clark paused, knitting his brow together. It was a look he always made right before he was about to lie.

Jonathan smiled. "I remember what its like to be a teenager, son. And I know these things are important, but we set a curfew in place to…"

"Dad," Clark lowered his gaze. He wished he was doing normal teenage things. He wanted a normal life more than anything. "I wasn't at the dance."

"Why not?" His father gave him a confused look. "That was a heck of a game they played. Attending the homecoming dance to celebrate a victory like that is all part of supporting your home team."

Clark angrily dropped the next crate into the back of the truck, sending splinters flying in different directions. "Because I'm not normal. Isn't that why you won't let me play on the team?"

Jonathan attempted to reach out for the boy, but he was literally gone in a flash. He sighed heavily, jumping down from the back to take the last crate from his wife's hands. "Clark is going to meet us there."

"Did you talk to him?"

The man shook his head. "I tried."

* * *

The farmers market was bustling with people already. Martha greeted a few of her friends, smiling politely at the competition as she made her way towards their booth right in the centre. It was a beautiful day for a change. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze in the air but she couldn't see a cloud for miles.

"Martha," Her old friend, Audrey waved to her as she approached. "Lovely turn out. Did you see the donkey rides for the kids?"

"I think Clark's a little old now." She giggled with her friend. Clark was usually the first one in line to ride a donkey. He would rather spend all day riding them round and round the little pen than help out with their produce store back then.

"Clark," Lana Lang approached their store. "I didn't see you at the dance last night."

"Oh, I was," Clark paused to look at her boyfriend behind her. The blonde looked angry, maybe even a little annoyed as Clark squirmed on the spot trying to think of an excuse. "I was a little tied up." He shot a look at the jealous boyfriend.

"Hey, there he is." Jonathan joined his son's side. He had a proud smile plastered across his lips as he reached his hand out to shake Whitney's. "Congratulations. That was one heck of a game. I haven't seen an offense that good since I played."

Whitney gave the man a sheepish smile, returning the hand shake much to Clark's disgust. "Thank you, Mr Kent."

"I'm going to get the rest of the boxes out of the truck." Clark decided to leave the uncomfortable situation as fast as possible. He hated seeing Lana with the guy who tied him up in a field and left him for dead. He hated the fact that his father was congratulating that same guy even more.

"I'll help." His plan backfired as Whitney raced after him. "Kent." He hurried along beside him; even Clark's attempts to walk faster didn't make him stop. "Hey, you realise last night was just a joke, right?" Whitney cracked a smile, trying to lighten the mood. He placed his hand on Clark's shoulder, stopping him from walking any further. "Hey, I uh… I need that necklace back."

"I don't have it."

"Look, its Lana's favourite so…"

"So then you better go out to that cornfield and find it." Clark cracked a grin this time, turning on his heels. He made it back to their truck, finding his mother looking over their stock list. "Is there a problem, Mom?"

"Oh," Martha shook her head. "I just left a few crates in the pantry back at home. I'll get a ride from Audrey. Make sure your father puts the carrots up front. We've got a lot of them to shift this year. Thank you, sweetheart." She pecked a kiss to her son's cheek, making her way back towards their stall. She smiled at Lana as she admired a cluster of glass butterflies, spotting an old friend of Clark's that she hadn't seen in a while.

"Let me help you with that, Mrs Kent." A young man bent to help her retrieve their sign off the ground. He dusted off the hay, reading, "Kent Organic Produce."

"Thank you, Whitney." She set it down on the side. "I heard you won the homecoming game last night. Chloe mentioned something about being Homecoming King too."

"Oh its nothing," The teen stuffed his hands into his pockets, shrugging his shoulders together. "I love it out there on the field. Being part of a game, a team… it's one of the greatest feelings in the world. Coach said I might be able to get a scholarship to college if I keep this up."

"Well congratulations, you deserve it."

"Are you looking for something?" He noticed her eyes searching around for something or maybe even someone.

"Oh, just my friend, Audrey. I was going to ask for a ride back to the farm. I left a few crates of fruit in our pantry that I'd really like to put on the store."

"I have my truck." The boy motioned over his shoulder. "I can give you a ride back."

"Oh," Martha double checked that her friend wasn't around. She really didn't want to give into her inner most deepest desires. Ever since she first met Whitney Fordman, there had been an undercurrent, something unspoken between them that had always been nagging her at the back of her mind. She didn't know what it was or how to deal with it, but it seemed like she didn't have any other options in this case. Not unless she wanted to get stuck with mountains of rotting fruit in her pantry. "Alright, if you're sure."

"Of course." Whitney gave her a smile, leading the way. He got the door for her like a perfect gentleman, waiting until she was inside before he closed it up. He gave the woman a mile wide smile as he clambered behind the wheel, putting the truck in drive.

The drive was silent for the first few minutes, almost awkwardly silent. Martha could hear every rattle of the truck as they drove along the bumpy road back to the Kent farm.

"It's really beautiful this time of year." Whitney noted.

It took a few moments for Martha to reply. She could feel the words at the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't quite get them out. "Mm," She hummed instead, looking at the crystal blue sky. There was a slight chill in the air as goose bumps prickled their way up her arms, but she guessed that had more to do with the company she was with than the weather.

Martha shifted a little in her seat. She grasped the necklace just beneath the collar of her jacket, rolling the pendant in her palm. "So is your father still working in the store?" She decided that small talk was the best course of action here.

"Yeah, I work there after school and most weekends." He didn't sound too happy about it. "It pays the bills, but I don't want to end up like him."

"Oh you won't." She shook her head. "You're going to get that scholarship and make it big."

"Thanks." He flashed her another smile, but she could see the sadness in his eyes.

"Believe it or not, my father is a lawyer." She shared. "Ever since I was a little girl, he told me that I would follow in his footsteps. I used to dream of being just like him at that age. I think it's natural for kids to feel that way. To find their place in the world. It wasn't until I was older and fell in love with Jonathan that I realised my father only wanted me to be a lawyer and nothing else. He thought I could do better than some farm boy. He didn't want me to become a farmer's wife. I don't think he even wanted me to be a mother, but it was what I wanted. I had to learn to follow my hopes and dreams rather than the dreams my father had for me."

"Do you still speak to him?" Whitney didn't know if he had the nerve to tell his father that he wanted to go in a different direction. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to play football for the rest of his life. He didn't want his future set in stone. It had no appeal or mystery to it. As much as he enjoyed it, he knew that he was capable of so much more.

Martha shook her head, her beautiful long locks of fiery red hair cascading around her shoulders. "No… no, we drifted apart after I married Jonathan. He's never even met his grandson."

"Well then he's a fool." Whitney brought a smile back to her lips.

She didn't know how he always managed to do that, even Jonathan hadn't mastered that technique yet and they had been together for years.

Whitney stopped his truck just short of the Kent family farm house, pulling the keys from the ignition. "I never used to like football. I only played it because my father played it before me and he wanted me to do better than he did. Now I like it because people know who I am. They chant my name, cheer me on and celebrate with me when I win a game. I don't feel like I'm in his shadow when they do that." He turned to look at the woman he had always admired. "I admire you, Mrs Kent. You left everything you knew, everything you grew up with to come here."

The woman cracked a smile. "You almost say that like it's a bad thing."

"A crappy little town like Smallville over the big city or even anywhere in the world?" He painted the bigger picture for her. "That takes some serious guts."

"Oh Whitney," Martha unintentionally reached out for his leg, gently patting his thigh. "You'll find what makes you happy. I know it doesn't feel that way right now, but you're just starting out. You've got a lot of life to live." She presented the young man with a warm smile, only this time he didn't return it. "What's the matter?"

The boy pursed his lips together, looking down at her hand that hadn't moved. "Uh… I,"

"Whatever it is," Martha reached her other hand up to her face, combing back a few tendrils of her hair. The action opened up her face, showing off more of her delicate, feminine features. "You can talk to me, Whitney."

"Thanks… honestly, you're the first person who ever really saw me. The real me." He clasped his hand over her fingers on his thigh, giving them a gentle squeeze. "That really means a lot to me, Mrs Kent."

Showing her beautiful smile, the woman giggled softly as she shook her head. "Please, call me Martha."

For just a moment, time stood still.

Mrs Kent was giving him a look he had so desperately desired these past few years. His breath caught in his throat. His pulse racing and his jeans were becoming impossibly tight. It was a sign, it had to be the sign he had been searching for and he wasn't about to pass up this chance.

Whitney slowly moved closer, catching the woman off guard for the briefest kiss.

Her eyes widened, mouth gaped open with baited breath, but she didn't push him away. She wasn't sure what to do, she had never been in this situation before and she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted it to become. She didn't even realise that her hand was travelling further up his pant leg, until she felt the cold metal of his zipper.

Whitney gulped. "I uh… I'm really… sorry, I don't know… what I was thinking…"

Martha cut him off by placing her lips on his. Her hand seemed to have a mind of its own, teasing its way along the stitching to his jeans, before it stopped to cup the obvious bulge in his pants. She felt her cheeks flushing. She didn't know what she was doing. She wanted to stop but she felt his hand gripping her waist. She began to fumble with his belt buckle, realising exactly what she needed, wanted from him all along.

Whitney pulled back to gasp for breath, the two of them silently staring into one another's eyes. It felt like decades had gone by, no words needed to be said, they knew that the other wanted the same thing.

Martha cupped his chin in her hand, teasing him into another kiss. She felt his fingers on her blouse, roaming beneath her jacket. She feared he would pull away once he realised that she wasn't quite as thin as Lana Lang or as agile as she used to be. Farm life definitely had its down sides. All the home cooking had gone straight to her hips and she couldn't quite fit into the skimpier sizes anymore.

Their tongues met in their mouths, dancing around one another. His hands travelled further, caressing parts of her body that had been severely lacking any attention for the better part of her marriage.

"No, wait." A sudden realisation hit her as his hand cupped her breast. "We shouldn't," She shook her head. "It isn't right. Not here." She felt a cold tremble running down her spine. "You're still in school."

"I'm eighteen." Whitney tried to put her mind at ease, gently stroking his fingers through her hair. "I can do whatever I want… with whoever I want." He gazed into her eyes, caressing the outline of her bra with his fingertips. "Tell me to stop… and I'll stop."

Another smile erupted across her lips.

"Oh… what are we doing?" Martha softly stroked the teen's cheek with her thumb. He had such youthful soft skin. No blemishes, scars or signs of stubble. She shook her head as she looked into the youthful depths of his eyes. "We're going to hell. I can tell you that right now. You and me."

"You and me sounds perfect to me."

Martha let out a smirk. "Ugh, I don't even know what I'm doing." She moved closer, just barely brushing their noses together. "Just… knock me into tomorrow, Whitney. Make all my problems disappear."

Whitney didn't need to be told twice.

The woman moaned breathlessly into his mouth, her hands tearing at his t-shirt beneath his football jacket. Her eyes fell shut as his hands clumsily fumbled with the buttons to her blouse. Tiny round buttons nestled between two strips of fabric. It felt like they were welded together. The pressure building inside him and his shaky, sweaty palms weren't helping either.

It finally began to inch open, inch by inch, revealing more of her voluptuous cleavage hidden away inside a delicate lace bra. He grasped her breast in his hand over the white lace, almost breathless with excitement, worrying he was on the edge of explosion.

Martha dragged her lips across his face, giving him slow, half smile kisses as if to reassure him that everything was alright.

Whitney panted between kisses, desperately trying to hold on for just a few more minutes. No woman had ever made him feel this way before.

Between kisses and caresses, the two of them made quick work of disrobing the rest of their clothes, clambering through the seats of the truck. A content sigh erupted from Martha's lips as her bare back hit the soft seats in the back of Whitney's truck. She decided that it was best to stop worrying and give it time for this fantasy to play out.

His hand moved to cup her cheek, thumb stroking her skin fondly. She was a beautiful woman, probably the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on and for the next few minutes, she was all his. It almost made it more exciting, more dangerous.

"My husband used to look at me like that." A breathless sigh escaped Martha's lips. The statement made her sad, but she couldn't help but smile. "You remind me of him."

"I do?"

"Just a little." She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her. She gasped his name, moving her hands to his waist to direct him. She found his inexperience adorable and all the more exciting. It reminded her of her first time with Jonathan, only this time she wasn't as nervous and knew exactly what she wanted.

Waves of desire and ecstasy pulsated through their bodies. Lips parted to allow tongues to enter the warm caverns of their mouths and the occasional breath of much needed air.

This was it, what she had been waiting for all along.

Martha ran her foot up his calf, craving more as the boy focused his attention on her neck. He swirled his tongue across the beautiful clusters of freckles that gathered there, grazing his teeth across the sweet sensitive spot of skin just beneath her jaw line.

Again she moaned his name. He loved the sound of his name on her lips. He wanted to hear it again. He wanted to hear her beg for him.

With each whimper that escaped her lips, Whitney thrust his hips against hers in an achingly slow manner that made her squirm. She wrapped her leg around his, tight in an attempt to hold him there. She hadn't felt this good in years. She wanted all of him, every inch of him in her hidden depths.

"Whitney, please…"

There it was.

Martha locked her legs around his waist, her nails dug into his shoulders. He began to thrust faster, a little harder with each pulse. She began to feel the most powerful orgasm she had ever felt in the longest time. She didn't know if she had ever felt one quite like this and it was resulting in her losing complete control, screaming his name, gasping for breath after every crash of pleasure inside her.

When their end came a few moments later, neither one of them dared to take even the slightest breath. It hit them in delightful waves, hips still grinding out the high, while their hands desperately clung on to keep their bodies close.

They shared one last kiss, slow and tender, a closing statement to cherish the moment they just shared. It wasn't fair that it had to end but neither one of them were ready for reality to come crashing down around them.

* * *

**And there you have it… I never knew that writing for an unlikely couple could be so fun :)**

**Please let me know what you thought. 5 hours well spent?**

**~ Holly**


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